What Mother Doesn’t Know
by Tippy.LaRoux
Summary: Nymphandora Tonks has many expectations, being her own person is number one in her book. When she is forced to go to her cousin’s Prom without her wand how will she survive?


Hogwarts School of Witchcraft Wizardry (Challenges Assignments)

The Houses Competition, Year 4, Round 5

Monthly Challenges for All

Term 10 - Assignment 8 - Games Development Task 11: Write about someone who feels like they have no control over an action/choice.

House: Hufflepuff

Position: Prefect

Category: Standard

Prompt: [Color] Navy

Snicket Fence

Representation: the secret in Nymphadora's skirts

Bonus Challenges: Rediscovery, Odd Feathers, Pocky Pockets,

Tertiary: Tether, Rail, Ameliorate, Intercept

IC: Click Bait It, Yellow Ribbon Redux, Hufflepuff MC, Bow Before the Blacks, Spring Rain

Word Count: (Per Google Docs) 1375

Beta(s): Aya/Gab

* * *

"His name is what?" Nymphadora asked her mother. Certain she misunderstood. Certain her mother was not encouraging her to spend time with a Black.

"Cas, or rather Castor Black. He is your third cousin, Cousin Leo's youngest." Tapping her spoon on the edge of the teacup and setting it down, Andromeda continued on, "Leo, the one whose oldest daughter's wedding we went to a few years ago."

"Ah, Cousin Leo!" Tonks nodded her head, vividly remembering the wedding. Or, rather, the Howler her mother received the following morning from her Aunt Narcissa for daring to attend.

As though remembering the same, her mother continued on, "Leo. Why they would name him after a lion and not expect him to be sorted into Gryffindor? I remember the day he was blasted off the tapestry, 'Let this be a lesson, you three: you will be in Slytherin, or you will not be a Black.'

"Anyway," Andromeda continued. "I got an owl from Cousin Leo and he was wondering if you would attend something called a 'Prom' with his youngest son. He's had a difficult time in Muggle school, Squib and all, and would like to go to this formal dance." The look on her mother's face made it clear this was not a request. There were many times in Nymphandora's life where she was permitted, no—encouraged, to march to the beat of her own drum. Family, however, was family; and unless it went directly against her own moral compass, she would be expected to march to this drum.

"Can I wear whatever I want?" Nymphadora asked her mother, using her best begging eyes.

"I will have veto power over your selection. And you will not be allowed your wand. The last thing we need is for you to be caught doing underage magic." And with that, it was settled. Nymphadora Tonks, the witch, would be attending her Muggle cousin's prom.

.o0o.

Arriving in the back of her father's powder blue Volvo 760, Nymphadora had her hand out the back window. Traveling via Muggle contraptions like the car annoyed her, she much preferred the wind in her face; feeling the unseasonable cool May air over her fingers was the closest she'd get to feeling magic tonight. That was, until she remembered what was tucked into the hidden pockets of her skirt.

"What was that, darling?" her father ran around to the passenger side and opened the door for his favorite daughter. He held his arm out for her like a perfect gentleman.

"Nothing, Da," Nymphadora said, climbing out of the sedan. "It's the damn crinolines is all. Just got snagged by the blasted seatbelt." She looked a sight, climbing out of the car. Her navy blue dress—she fought her mother tooth and nail to not wear common black—and the car's navy blue interior, were a dark background where the only thing that stood out was her fair complexion and hot pink lips.

"Nymphadora," her mother retorted. "A lady cannot be walking around using such coarse language. Honestly, child! Sometimes I wonder if you would have been better served by Beauxbatons rather than Hogwarts. You have not picked up any manners from that school."

"Aye, now Andy, you know they would've booted her after refusing to hold out her pinky whilst drinking tea." He winked over at his daughter.

It was something of a family joke by this time. Her mother saying she wanted a 'Lady' when really, they all knew Andromeda was happy to have a daughter that didn't toe the line. She was proud to have raised a young woman who was never afraid of being her own person.

.o0o.

"Thank you for coming with me, Dora," she smiled hearing him refer to her by the childhood monicker. "I didn't really wanna come, but Mum said it was 'a rite of passage' or some other gag-worthy thing." Castor glanced down at her navy taffeta dress and smiled. The skirt was so poofy that it was hard to get in and out of the car with, but she looked lovely. Her hair was the best, though. It was a dark navy blue confection that was shaved on the sides with bright teal tips on the top, almost like a mohawk—but not quite.

"Aye, no worries, Cas. It honestly got my own mum off my back. 'Why don't you ever dress up, Darling? Why don't you ever go out with boys?' Honestly, gag me with a spoon!" Her face was flushed, but Castor thought it just made her look that much prettier.

Taking her by the arm, he lead her into the party. They made it to their table quickly and without interruption. Cas laid her cloak over the back of the chair, and after suggesting a drink, walked with Dora to the back of the banquet hall. The bar was crowded and Castor just kept his eyes straight ahead, vowing not to make eye contact with anyone. But, it didn't take long for the other students to notice the new girl with the blue hair.

"Hey, everyone look! Castor Oil brought an overgrown parrot as his date!"

"Didn't know you had it in you to show up here, geek."

"These people are lucky Mum confiscated my wand." Nymphadora pulled her date closer, their fingers entwined. "Bet she never thought I would use those sewing lessons to make some well concealed additions to this monstrosity."

"I think you look beautiful." His face turned red the second he said the words. Turning away quickly, he tried to hide the embarrassment that crossed his face.

"If there is one thing Black men can do, it's wearing properly tailored formal wear. You look much better in that navy silk Burberry and velvet waistcoat than Captain Jock Itch looks in his rent-a-tux."

He turned back to her, surprised to see nothing but sincerity in her eyes. The crowd around them didn't stop sniggering and the insults continued, but for a moment he didn't care. For the first time, maybe ever, he felt like he didn't have to take them on himself. His back straightened to his full six-foot height, and he squeezed Nymphadora's hand.

He leaned in close to her ear, not wanting anyone else to hear. "So, you said you have some additions to your dress. Anything we can use to make this party a bit livelier?"

The smirk that plastered across Dora's face screamed mischief. "Thought you'd never ask."

She looked around the vicinity before moving toward the punch bowl, Cas following closeby. She pulled out a handful of what looked like cough drops, scanned the room for narcs, and handed him a cup before scooping out juice with the ladle. She carefully dropped the drops in the liquid and dumped it back in the punch bowl, giving it a quick stir.

Cas raised a brow, confused.

"Hiccough drops," Dora explained. "Tamer than belching powder at least. Give it a few minutes and everyone will be having a hiccuping contest." A smirk crossed her face—he could swear he saw her eyes change from her normal stormy grey to a glittering silver.

"Is it dangerous?"

She gave her cousin a wink. "Danger is my middle name."

"Funny," he said, "I thought it was Andromache. But seriously?"

Her features softened, and her eyes went back to their normally mischievous state. "It's harmless unless someone throws up from all the hiccuping."

A song came on and Tonks perked up. Grabbing Cas's arm, she pulled him out to the dance floor. "Got to make a smooth getaway. And this song rocks."

He unbuttoned his velvet waistcoat and abandoned their tainted drinks, along with his jacket, at their table. It didn't take long for them to hear the first wave of hiccups out on the dance floor. The pair laughed, sharing their little secret as they danced.

The navy dress had done what she needed it to do—saved her from having to hear her mum complain about not seeing her in a dress, and Castor from having to listen to his bullies all night long. But, man, did she itch to get out of the monstrosity and into her cut-offs and a tee shirt. Hogwarts robes didn't seem to be as bad as formalwear, she decided.


End file.
